Sweet Dreams
by LadyScribe
Summary: A lady-scribe of Mirkwood laden with guilt over a strange twist of fate, is unnoticed-and unhappy. What happens when Legolas takes an interest and things happen?
1. Default Chapter

Hello! Welcome, dear Readers, to my first Fanfiction! I hope you like it. Please review-but be kind unless, well, you really don't want to be. I guess that's all, so enjoy!  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am not Tolkien (wish I was), and all characters belong to him. If I did, however, own anything, I wouldn't be here now, writing this fanfiction, would I? Didn't think so either. So don't sue.  
  
"Come with me," the child demands.  
  
The elder of the two reaches out her hands to the younger, who brushes them away with impatience. She squirms and struggles when strong arms wrap around her, binding her, pulling her into a lap. She gives up, defeated.  
  
"Why do you refuse to come with me?"  
  
A deeper, more mature voice responds softly.  
  
"I wish to hold you. You never stay still long enough to be lovable," the voice teases gently. The small elf scowls, and goes limp, attempting to slide out from under the arms that encircle her. The elder of the two elves gives up, laughing. The child climbs down, squishing toes with small feet and jabbing with elbows with child-like innocence, blissfully unaware of the damage she causes on her journey to the floor.  
  
"Now may we go?" the golden haired child asks, feeling her impatience mounting as she looks into a pair of gray eyes above her. They twinkle with mirth; this irritates her.  
  
"As you wish," the owner of the gray eyes says. She brushes a kiss onto the child's forehead, her own dark hair contrasting sharply with the golden river framing her sister's face.  
  
The child's face lights up eagerly. She takes her sister by the hand, who is forced to bend at the waist nearly double as the eager child runs along. She knows where she is going; at corners and turns she does not falter. Her feet pad softly on the marble, barely echoing in the halls lit with the soft glow of candles. She clings tight to her elder sister's hand, urging her on, occasionally looking back at her, a smile flashing across her face.  
  
Suddenly, it fades. The dreamer's peace has been broken; she has been jolted into wakefulness. Her heart has quickened, as her breathing has. She wishes to cling to the dream, to sleep, to sleep, blissfully unaware. Yet she is glad to be rid of it. It plagues her, eats away at her like fire to kindling. It is always the same: a memory haunting her, mocking her in her sleep, in her mind, where she cannot escape it. It brings back fresh waves of pain, ones she has fought against. The hurt drowns her, she needs to struggle against it to break the surface and breathe. Finally, she controls it. It is gone-for now. All she can to is pray that the recurring dream will leave her. But it never does. 


	2. Notice

Hello! Thanks for reading what I have so far. I would, however really appreciate reviews. I know, I know. I don't mean to whine, but feedback of any kind helps. It only takes a minute, and believe me, it will be worth it. If you don't like it, tell me why, and I'll improve whatever it is I'm doing wrong. If you like it, that's really great! I want you to enjoy what your reading-it is your time and effort, after all. I just wanted to know if anyone was reading, and if they were anticipating more. So the moral of the er, story (I know, cheap joke) is if you review, we both win! And we love winning, right?!?!? Thanks, this means so much to me. Happy Reading!  
Love, your favorite LadyScribe 


	3. Chapter 2

Hello again! First of all, thanks to my reviewers: I love you! I am forever grateful. So sorry this took as long as it did, my muse has been hibernating, thanks a lot. I tried to put a more comic edge on this chapter, thanks to my, er, ever so helpful sister's advice. ("It's good, but to intense, ya know?") Thanks. I hope you like it, I really do. Reviews, please!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything; it belongs to the brilliant mind of Professor Tolkien.  
  
I am a scribe. A recorder of thoughts and words. I remember long ago, my father served the king himself as a gifted scribe. Father noticed that I could neatly and accurately write things I was told, even a rapid pace. So it began, me following in my father's footsteps. I, of course could never rival my father; he wrote with bold, quick strokes, forming beautifully shaped letters that spilled from his quill as it flew across the parchment. My own penmanship, in contrast to my fathers, which was masculine and solid, is florid and slightly slanted.  
  
"Look, Elráwien," he would say, "see how the words dip and wave on the page?" I would nod, carefully scrutinizing the penmanship of the kingdom's various subjects, and he would continue.  
  
"A sure sign, a sure sign child, of instability and volatility," he would whisper, leaning in as if telling me one of the universe's grand secrets.  
  
"Volatility," I said, nodding sagely, enjoying the sound of the new, adult-sounding word rolling off my tongue. Snapping back to the present, I laugh softly to myself at the memories. I resume my task, placing a large, thick volume on a shelf just out of reach. When my services are not requested, I can be found in Mirkwood's massive library, either pouring over works or tidying. I have appointed myself the unofficial keeper of the books, since the previous one journeyed to Aman.  
  
I stretch to my fullest extent, balancing on one foot trying to slide the tome back of the shelf. Suddenly, I'm falling backwards, and the book, as if by its own will, flies from my hand. Time seems to have slowed; I gasp and fall back on something solid-and warm. I'm so taken aback that I don't move for a moment or two from the pair of arms that hold me. Finally, when the fact I am not sprawled on the floor registers, I tilt my head up and find a pair of blue eyes staring back, twinkling with mirth.  
  
"My Lady, it is fortunate that I stumbled upon you as soon as I did," Legolas, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen said jovially. I felt my face grow warm, silently screaming in horror at my own ungainliness. I, humiliatingly enough, had fallen directly into the arms of the Prince. The Prince! I had just made a complete fool of myself in  
  
front of the heir to the throne. Oh, Valar, what did he think of me now?  
  
"Indeed it is, my Lord," I said, wishing that he had missed and I was lying on the ground unconscious. Legolas up righted me, making sure I wasn't hurt. Gracefully, he bent down and retrieved the accursed volume, replacing it on the shelf with ease.  
  
The unfairness of it all. 


	4. Chapter 3

Hello again! Did any of you see Return of the King? It was phenomenal.it brought tears to my eyes. Remember when Gandalf and Pippin go to see Denethor for the first time, and they walk through that hall to reach him? I pictured it to look like that when I read the book! Sorry, I'm babbling. Anyway, read and review? Thanks.  
  
Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien. (Clearly, with a story like this? You cannot compare!)  
  
Scribbling feverishly, she records every word spoken. She is slightly flushed with excitement, as she has never done anything so important and is fairly inexperienced. These great leaders of her kind, in the same room as she is! Suddenly, her admiration is cut short at the sound of heavy wooden doors being pushed open. She turns, startled, and her eyes widen in dismay at the sight that greets her.  
  
"Lady Anáwiel." the king stated, seeming to be as shocked as Elráwien was.  
  
"Sister." Elráwien said, horrified. The small Elf, trailed by three sheepish looking Royal Guards, crossed the conference room. She made her way around the large, ornately carved table, and the prestigious Elves seated at it, ignoring their curious gazes. Her golden head barely reached the top of it, yet she did not seem to notice. She made her way to the head of the table, where Thranduil was standing, and stopped. She craned her head to look him in the eye, and placed her hands on her hips.  
Thranduil looked down into her glaring blue eyes, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. Anáwiel stared steadily back; for the first time it was noticed she was wearing a great deal of jewelry, including a long rope of pearls that hung to her knees, and a long dress she needed to hold up so she would not trip.  
  
"May I be so bold as to inquire the reason why you have interrupted?" Thranduil asked, sounding amused.  
  
"Why didn't you come?" Anáwiel said, obviously hurt and angry. Thranduil was speechless; Anáwiel held up a piece of parchment to him as an explanation. He took it, and read aloud:  
  
"The Lady Anáwiel requests your presence in her chambers at noon tomorrow for tea. Formal attire must be worn."  
  
Thranduil refolded the parchment gravely, and turned to one of the Elves seated next to him. The Elf searched for a moment through a stack of papers, and finally handed one to Thranduil. It was identical to the other he held in his hand; it had been unintentionally overlooked. He in turn showed it to Anáwiel, who nodded.  
  
"It was today," Thranduil said softly. Elráwien watched uneasily as her sister nodded, fearing that any moment the king would have both her and her sister banished, or worse. Slowly, Thranduil turned from Anáwiel to the congregation seated before him.  
  
"I apologize, my friends, but it seems this meeting must be continued later. A most pressing matter has presented itself." Anáwiel turned to one of the Royal Guards who was trying to pull her away, and kicked him in the shin, sticking her tongue out and smiling triumphantly. With that, the King Thranduil of Greenwood the Great took Anáwiel's hand and led her out to her room, leaving behind several confused Elves, and one very relived Elf, grateful that she had not been fed to the spiders dwelling in the surrounding forests, to attend a tea party.  
  
My eyes snap into focus, and I sit upright, my chest heaving. I lay back down, rolling onto my stomach, muffling my sobs in my pillow. Every year, it comes back to haunt me, in my dreams, where I cannot escape it. When will it end? 


	5. Chaper 4

Hello again! Before you start to read, I thought that it would  
  
be helpful for you to know a little background information. This is  
  
in the Fourth Age, after Legolas has traveled with Gimli, Faramir,  
  
and company, when he returns to Eryn Lasgalen. To make the  
  
story work, all of the Elves haven't left Middle-Earth.  
  
Read and Review, please? It keeps me going. Thank you!  
  
It seems that the Fourth Age has brought more festivities than there have been in these halls for longer than I can remember! Tonight we celebrate the return of our prince with a great feast and much merry-making. Oh, Valar, even the thought of our encounter in the library makes me cringe. So far I have been lucky enough to avoid him, getting lost in the crowds. A part of me insists that I am a fool, that he wouldn't even remember what happened, but.  
  
Oh, what a sight! The maidens are in their lovely gowns of every hue, and the lords in their finest attire. The wine flows freely, and music and laughter echo throughout the halls.  
  
"Elráwien!" I turn at the sound of a familiar voice, smiling.  
  
"Hénduil!" I exclaim, embracing him, "How fares the finest smith of the Elves?" Hénduil laughed, blushing slightly. "You flatter me, cousin. I do not deserve such praise," he said humbly.  
  
"Was it not you who helped craft the swords of the Royal Guards?" I tease. I often bring this up, as he holds much pride in this. Hénduil simply beams at me; with his sweet nature, he would never think of bragging about his skill.  
  
"A wonderful feast, is it not?" he asks, gesturing around the room.  
  
"Indeed, it is rather-," I stop short. He is looking directly at me! The prince! He sees me! I begin to panic. If he even speaks to me, I think I shall faint from embarrassment. He's walking towards me. What do I do?  
  
"Elráwien, are you well?" Hénduil asks, concerned. "Elrá-"  
  
"Dance with me, Hénduil!" I say, yanking him onto a clear space in the dancing area.  
  
"Elráwien, what are you doing?" Hénduil asks, alarmed.  
  
"I'm avoiding the prince!" I whisper through clenched teeth.  
  
"Don't ask why!" I give him a pleading look, and he nods, Holy Ones bless him. I glance over Hénduil's shoulder and see Legolas speaking to someone who's back is turned to me. I sigh with relief, laughing weakly.  
  
"Now may I ask why you seem to have lost your sanity?" Hénduil asked me. Grudgingly, I explain, and Hénduil simply nodded, his eyes filled with sympathy.  
  
"I was deep in thought, and off balance," I say, "yet I feel so." I trail off, thinking for a word harsh enough to describe my clumsiness.  
  
"Inept? Bungling?" Hénduil offered helpfully while twirling me.  
  
"Yes, thank you Hénduil," I said sharply. I put my right palm to his, facing the opposite direction he was, and we began circling each other.  
  
"I apologize," he said meekly as we switched palms and began in the opposite direction. "I do not see Legolas; perhaps he has retired?"  
  
"No, Hénduil, it is I who should apologize. And I should only be so fortunate," I said with a small smile. He laughed, and as I twirled away from him I stopped dead, my arms still stretched out.  
  
"Lady, you are very hard to track down," said the very Elf I had been avoiding. "Perhaps," he said, looking over my shoulder at Hénduil, "I can steal you away for a moment?"  
  
This is not happening, this is not happening. I try to respond, but all I succeed in doing is opening and closing my mouth like a fish. Luckily, Hénduil stepped in.  
  
"She would be honored, my Lord," he said. I nodded mutely, and as Hénduil walked away he jabbed me in the side. Quickly I snapped my mouth shut and dropped my arms to my sides.  
  
"Wonderful," said Legolas, bowing to me. I curtsied deeply, and we were off. I met Legolas' eyes for a moment; then dropped my gaze to my feet, blushing furiously. He laughed, and if possible I grew even redder. Stop! I told myself. He'll think you are a simpleton! I concentrated on my feet, silently praying that I wouldn't step on his royal feet.  
  
"Tell me," he began in a conversational tone, "how is it that you manage to dance so well, while among books and dusty shelves you fall into handsome Elves' arms left and right?" he said, winking.  
  
"It is a gift, my Lord," I said, and feeling a bit bolder, I added, "Though I cannot say I have found an Elf quite handsome enough." Legolas looked at me for a second, laughed heartily. It was at that moment the song ended. Legolas bowed deeply, and cupped my chin in his hand.  
  
"Well then, I suppose we must try again sometime. You can fall, and I will be the gallant, terribly handsome Elf who rescues you. Maybe you will have a change of heart," he said, "for if memory serves me correctly, I believe you were too occupied studying the floor than studying my face." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me to try in vain to slow my rapidly beating heart. 


	6. Chapter 5

Hi everybody! I'm sorry I haven't updated; this past week I had  
midterms, and the week before I got the flu. Not very attractive  
stuff, I'll tell you that. Anyway, I don't think I ever thanked you  
reviewers properly, so here it is: Thank You! I appreciate you more  
than I can say. Thanks again, and enjoy!  
  
Disclaimer: Sadly, none of this is mine.  
  
Some time later, when the celebrations had ended and things were fairly quiet, I returned to the library. I had not ventured there in nearly a week, and felt a strange sort of guilt settle over me as I entered. I silently scolded myself as I reverently looked around, but I couldn't help it. I felt as if it was my duty to watch over the books and records. It was still fairly early, and many of the large tapers placed on the walls had not yet been lit. The lack of light made the room take on a pale blue color; not an eerie one, just a shadow that settled over sleeping things in the night. Quickly I lit the candles, and the library regained its cheerful, cozy atmosphere. There, I thought. Now it is home again.  
  
Around midday, I began dusting the numerous, grandly carved shelves and their contents to occupy myself. Without noticing, I began to hum a tune that had worked its way into my head. Remembering the words that accompanied the melody, I began to sing:  
  
"Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear!  
  
O Queen beyond the Western Seas!  
  
O Light to us that wander here  
  
Amid the world of woven trees!  
  
Gilthoniel! O Elbereth!  
  
Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath!  
  
Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee  
  
In a far land beyond the Sea."  
  
I sang, twirling my duster. Suddenly, a voice joined mine and sang with me:  
  
"O stars that in the Sunless Year  
  
With shining hand by her were sown,  
  
In the windy fields now bright and clear  
  
We see your silver blossom blown!  
  
O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!  
  
We still remember, we who dwell  
  
In this far land beneath the trees,  
  
Thy starlight on the Western Seas.  
  
"Wonderful!" said Legolas, laughing. I reddened slightly and smiled. Of course. Who else would it possibly be? It just had to be him.  
  
"How is it you always seem to catch me at my, er, finest moments, my lord?" I asked.  
  
"That shall ever remain a mystery, my lady," Legolas said, cocking his head to the side and smiling. I smiled back, toying with the feather duster in my grasp.  
  
"What brings you to the library?" I asked.  
  
"Is it odd that I am simply wandering about my home?" Legolas replied, "Must all maidens be this inquisitive?"  
  
"Oh! No, I was just-I simply meant-" I said horrified at my own stupidity.  
  
Legolas laughed jovially, and said, "No matter! Think nothing of it, I quite understand! I simply enjoy the way in which you react-turning a bright, lovely shade of red." He brushed the back of his hand against my cheek, causing me to blush harder.  
  
"Perhaps a saying my father would often recited to me as a young Elf would help: 'Think ere you speak; for words once flown are feathers in the wind,"' Legolas said, laughing.  
  
I smiled, and said, "Wise words, I should remember them."  
  
Legolas smiled his charming smile and nodded. It was only then that I noticed a long white bandage on his arm, extending from his wrist and ending halfway to his elbow.  
  
"You're hurt," I exclaimed, alarmed. I stepped forward and took his arm, examining it.  
  
"I am well, you need not be alarmed," Legolas said, "It seems that there is a nest of spiders we have missed. They have been lurking unbeknownst to us in the forest. Fear not!" he added, noticing the expression on my face. "We have subdued them, and we think there to be no more. If, by chance, there are, they are no match for our warriors," Legolas said with a hint of pride, gesturing widely with his arms.  
  
"And your arm?" I asked.  
  
"Nothing really, just a gash along my inner arm. It is not deep, so do not worry," Legolas said, lightly placing his uninjured hand on my shoulder. I nodded, feeling reassured. But as I lowered my gaze back down to his injured arm, I let out a cry.  
  
"Prince, your arm! It is bleeding," I exclaimed.  
  
"Is it? Oh, it is nothing; the wound must have reopened slightly, not to worry. Look, it seems to have stopped," Legolas said reassuringly.  
  
But I barely heard him. When I noticed the red staining his bandages, I had clasped his arm in my hands, trying to stop the bleeding. I had succeeded, but now blood stained my hands, and I stared at them, remembering. An image of a pair of hands filled my mind, ones from long ago. Hands dripping, dripping with another's blood. My hands. Covered with the blood of-  
  
"Elráwien?" the prince's voice cut off my thoughts. I looked up from my hands to see Legolas eyeing me strangely.  
  
"I'm fine," I said. I swallowed and took a deep breath, shaking my head.  
  
"If you are certain." Legolas said, trailing off doubtfully.  
  
"Yes, I am fine, but it is you we should be concerned about! Come, let us go to the healers and get you mended," I said, leading Legolas out of the library, leaving behind troublesome thoughts for the time being.  
  
What did you think? I quite liked the way this turned out, I hope you do too. I didn't make up the song by the way, Tolkien did. Its in Fellowship of the Ring, the chapter entitled "Three is Company." Read and Review, please? 


	7. Chapter 6

Hi all. I know, I know! I haven't updated in ages, and I feel really bad. I'm sorry! But hey, still nice to know I'm in demand, right? (  
  
Special Thanks to Tinkoo, who snapped me out of my lazy spell. I owe you.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, no matter how many times I wish Arda was my creation. *Sigh*  
  
Having just finished my midday meal, I walked back to the library. The halls were mostly empty, and the only sounds were the soft echoes of my feet on the marble. I took my time, for few Elves had visited the library in the morning. I walked into the library and sighed in slight disappointment; it appeared to be empty. Solitude was pleasant at times, but even more so was the company of others, to me.  
  
As soon as that thought crossed my mind, I saw the one Elf I did not wish to have in my company. It was Galáril, also a scribe. There was unspoken competition between the raven-haired Elf and I; both of us wished to be useful to the King, more so than the other. I wished to follow in my deceased father's footsteps, to be the King's sole scribe. Galáril boasted of his talents, and belittled both my father and I at every given opportunity. I hated him for his scornful ways; he hated me because I simply was, for my very existence posed a threat to his victory.  
  
Galáril's back was turned to me, thankfully, so he did not know I was there. He seemed to be looking for something; what it was, I had no idea. Quietly I crept behind a bookshelf and watched him. It was a childish thing to do, but I did not want to make myself known just yet.  
  
My rival searched the shelves containing the chronological history of Eryn Lasgalen, moving ever towards the volumes of the Third Age's earlier years. Few ever read these, for the history of our kingdom is known to all here. Galáril selected a volume, and quickly skimmed its contents. He nodded, seeming to be satisfied at last.  
  
I decided to make myself known to Galáril; perhaps he would reveal his intentions to me.  
  
I carefully walked back to the threshold of the library, and acted as if I had just strolled in. As I had planned, Galáril heard me enter.  
  
"Galáril," I said with false formality, "may I assist you in some way?"  
  
"I have managed well on my own, Elráwien, but I thank you for your concern," he replied, just as coldly.  
  
"What have you selected, Galáril?" I asked, looking at the large book pointedly.  
  
Galáril laughed, but it held no mirth. "What evil time is this that an Elf's private business must be known to all? I shall return the records when I am finished with them. Then, perhaps, the keeper of these books will rest easily." He said, scathingly.  
  
My temper flared at this comment. How dare he mock me?  
  
"I will rest easily when you have left my sight," I said in a low voice, struggling to control my anger.  
  
"Your words cut into my very soul, fair maiden," Galáril said contemptuously.  
  
"Why is there such scorn in your tone, and revulsion in your eyes?" Galáril reached over and placed his hand on my arm, smirking. I flinched and jerked it away, out of his reach.  
  
"How dare you?" I spat angrily.  
  
Galáril stepped closer to me, and lowered his voice to a whisper.  
  
"It has been rumored the King is in search of a scribe. I wonder who he will choose? A book-keeper, or an Elf skilled in his trade?" Galáril said viciously.  
  
"Leave me." My stomach was knotted in fear, but my voice was steady.  
  
"You fear the truth!" Galáril smiled triumphantly, and his green eyes glittered coldly.  
  
"No!" I said trying to get past Galáril, who blocked the exit. I wanted to leave, and get as far away from him as possible.  
  
"You fear the truth, and run from it," Galáril said, restraining me, "just as you fear and run from the past!"  
  
I froze in silent horror, and simply stared at Galáril for a moment.  
  
"Just as you fear the past," Galáril repeated, smiling coldly.  
  
I pushed past him and ran from the library. I tore down the hall, and did not pause to look back. I ran, but with each step, the terrible truth just loomed closer.  
  
With each footfall the words rang in my head: He. Knew. He. Knew. He. Knew. 


	8. Chapter 7

Yes, me again. Well, don't look so shocked, I do happen to update every millennium or so....  
  
Tinkoo: Parlez-vous français? I don't, sadly, I just take it in that death trap they call school.  
  
Thanks for the reviews!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Gasping for breath, I reached the door to my chamber. I quickly entered and slammed the door behind me, bolting it. Placing a hand over my rapidly beating heart, I slowly walked to my bed and sat down on its edge. My hands shook violently, and blood pounded in my ears. I breathed deeply for a few moments and ran my hands through my hair, trying to clear my head. My actions were in vain, for my thoughts were still erratic.  
  
Did he really know? What would happen to me? Would he tell the king? Perhaps he was simply trying to frighten me. Perhaps he spoke of something else, like the untimely deaths of my kin. It was just a coincidence. He couldn't know!  
  
I dropped my head in my hands and tried to think rationally, but failed.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The next few days passed in an agonizingly slow fashion. I dreamt, slept, and on several occasions physically forced Hénduil out of my room, pacifying him with the excuse I was fine, simply busy. I knew he was worried; I simply had too much on my mind. My chambers became my sanctuary and my prison; I analyzed Galáril's words over and over in my head. Eventually I came to a conclusion: Surely if Galáril really knew anything, he would make it known. If he knew reason for my demise, would he not take it to the king straight away? I did not doubt this; his loathing for me was barely concealed. This thought comforted me greatly while I hid away in my room, terrified of what could happen to me.  
  
On the fourth day of hiding, I dared to leave the safety of my home. I squared my shoulders and firmly closed my door behind me. What drove me out was that I desperately craved sunlight, not the glow of candles or the stale air of tightly closed quarters. I was an Elf, after all, and missed contact with nature. I had made up my mind; I would not stay caged in any longer. After what seemed to be an eternity of marble corridors, twists, and turns, I reached the outside world. The forest that had once been called Mirkwood was now sunny and bright; the evil had left it, and the Hill of Black Magic, Dol Guldor, had been destroyed. For the first time in a long while, Elves walked freely throughout the forest, though not without weapons, just in case. It brought joy to the hearts of all to see Eryn Lasgalen restored to its original beauty and magnificence.  
  
Nearby Elven warriors sparred with each other, while maidens trying not to look interested watched. A laughing Elf patiently patted an unruly colt, and whispered to it softly, taming it. I spotted Hénduil, my dear cousin, but did not approach him. He shyly held a lovely maiden's hand in his own, and she in return gazed at him with adoration on her sweet face. Smiling, I walked into the trees, not having the heart to disturb them. In the bright daylight surrounded by such beauty, it was hard to imagine the horrors of death and the past, and a great weight lifted from my heart.  
  
"A thousand greetings, Lady Elráwien!" I heard a voice above me call. Looking up I saw Legolas sitting on a large bough of the tree I was walking under.  
  
"Hail, Legolas, and well met!" I laughed, surprised. "Why do you sit alone?"  
  
"I sit here to wait for someone to sit with, so I will no longer be alone by sitting with the one I was sitting here for," Legolas stated, smiling.  
  
"You speak in riddles!" I said, shaking my head. I placed my hand on the trunk of the mighty tree Legolas occupied, and smiled up at him. "May I ask who it is you are waiting for?"  
  
"Ah! You seek the answer to the riddle! The only answer I give you is this: come and sit with me, my lady, and the riddle shall be solved." Legolas said, patting the space next to him.  
  
I smiled and jumped up to a branch above my head, pulling myself up with my hands. Carefully climbing, I reached Legolas and sat on the branch, swinging my legs over the side. Legolas adjusted his position so his back leaned against the tree and his legs were crossed.  
  
"There," he said, folding his arms contentedly across his chest and smiling playfully, "Now I am not only sitting, I am no longer alone and waiting."  
  
I laughed, and replied, "I am grateful to be of service." I studied him a moment, and said, "You are a mystery to me."  
  
At this Legolas seemed surprised. "A mystery? Nay, my lady, it is you who is the mystery. You know who I am, yet I know little of you."  
  
I smiled and looked up at the sky through the leaves, replying, "I fear my past is filled with the same most are: love and pain. I would not know where to begin if you asked me to explain."  
  
Suddenly, Legolas reached out and touched the left side of my neck, which faced him. His fingers brushed a fading scar that was there at its base; it extended from a point below my left ear to just above my pulse point, and a bit to the right.  
  
"Never before have I noticed this," Legolas said softly, a hint of surprise in his voice. I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze and averted my eyes. "This was made by a blade, was it not?"  
  
Startled, I looked up at him, a question forming on my lips.  
  
"I can simply tell, my lady, as I have seen others like it," he stated simply.  
  
Of course, I thought. He had seen many battles and their effects; he probably carries scars of his own.  
  
"Perhaps your story will begin there," Legolas said, softly.  
  
Normally I would have protested, but I felt I could trust him. Perhaps speaking about my past would help me handle it. Sighing, I nodded and began to speak.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"When I had almost fully matured into a grown Elf, the second and last child my mother carried in her womb was born. The child was a girl, my sister, Anáwiel, one of the last few born before the Evenstar. I will never forget the moment I first looked upon her; she was kicking and screaming, making herself quite red in the face. Despite that, I immediately loved her. She grew into a beautiful child, with hair like the sun and eyes blue as the skies," I said, tugging on a strand of my own brown hair and smiling sadly.  
  
Legolas nodded, and said, "If my memory serves me correctly, Anáwiel was quite spirited. It was not often I walked away from her without a bruised shin or two."  
  
I nodded in agreement and continued, "Indeed, that was Anáwiel. I loved her more than I could express in words; I cared for her when my mother and father were occupied.  
  
As Anáwiel grew, rumors of evil spread throughout land, and Elves here grew uneasy. It was then decided by your father that a company of Elven soldiers and his subjects would travel to Imladris, seeking the protection and guidance of those in the Valley Cleft. Being unsure as to what Lord Elrond's response would be, and for speed and secrecy, only a fairly small group traveled. Not unlike the company you yourself traveled in, not long ago. About one hundred and thirty traveled, I believe, including warriors. My father, Téril, of course was chosen to go as well. He was to give Elrond documents containing Mirkwood's plans of attack on an Orc band roaming our lands. My mother, Elralindë, Anáwiel, and I were also chosen to go, as we were his family. On the second day of our journey, we encountered Orcs." Here I had to pause for a moment, for my voice was thick with tears.  
  
Legolas took my hand in his own and said, "I do not force you to continue, Elráwien. I know that this tale does not end well. If it pains you so to tell it, you may stop." His eyes were full of concern and understanding, which comforted me.  
  
"No, I need to confide in someone," I said quickly, brushing my hand across my eyes. And so I continued, trying to steady my voice:  
  
"The Elves were scattered by the enemy, who were many more than we were. Anáwiel fled in terror when Orcs attacked, so I followed her. She was only a child, by Elven reckoning, and she was so frightened...  
An Orc saw Anáwiel trying to flee, and followed her. By the time I reached her...it was just to late." With this remark, I cast my eyes down to the forest floor, avoiding Legolas' gaze. Finally I broke down, unable to be brave any longer.  
  
"I was her sister, Legolas! It was my duty to protect her! She was only a child, just a child..." I said between sobs.  
  
"I remember she was just laying there, and her eyes were open, like she was asleep. But there was such pain in them! I only had a dagger to protect myself, but I didn't care. I threw myself at the Orc who was her murderer, enraged, and killed it. Then I kneeled next to Anáwiel, and I tried to wake her up. She wouldn't."  
  
My voice cracked and my shoulders shook. Images of blond hair soaked in fatal crimson and my own bloodstained hands were burned into my memory. I sobbed for what seemed to be hours, and Legolas rubbed my back soothingly and whispered comfort. Finally I composed myself enough to tell the rest.  
  
"This is when I received my scar," I said, smiling bitterly. "Unbeknownst to me, another Orc approached. I suppose it had heard our screams. I did not hear it until it was too late. It came behind me tried to slit my throat. It nearly succeeded, but was pierced with arrows before it could make the cut deep enough to be fatal. It was, however, deep enough to wound me greatly." With a shudder I recalled a hand entwined in my hair, forcing my head back and exposing my neck. Then pain, greater then any physical pain I had ever felt, had seared across my throat like fire. I remembered clutching my hands to my neck, growing dizzy and nauseated from the coppery taste and smell of blood. I had felt my very life pouring out of me.  
  
"The other injured and I were hastily taken back to Eryn Lasgalen, which was closer than Imladris. When I woke in the healing houses, I found that I had not only lost Anáwiel, but my mother as well. Later my father would fade from sorrow, but I was to young and to afraid to die. I survived, but now I am alone."  
  
I fell silent, and looked out into the distance, not really seeing. I became aware that Legolas was stroking my hair, and unconsciously I leaned into him. I rested my head against his chest, in let out a shaky sigh. Suddenly I realized what I had done, and feeling ashamed, I tried to move away.  
  
In response, Legolas wrapped his arms around me and softly said, "Stay."  
  
And so I stayed.  
  
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Legolas carefully held Elráwien and rocked her softly. He pondered all he had heard, and stroked her hair comfortingly. Suddenly, Elráwien's hand grasped his, and he looked down, wondering if she wished him to stop. Hesitantly, Elráwien pressed Legolas' hand to her lips, and then looked up at him, her eyes filled with gratitude and hope. Legolas smiled, and pulled her closer to him. Gently, his lips brushed against Elráwien's in the softest of kisses. When their lips parted, Legolas held the Elf in his arms tighter than before, and he knew he loved her.  
  
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What did you guys think? This is not Elráwien's ENTIRE secret; there is still something that will be revealed later. *All readers smack their heads against their keyboards, groaning.* I know, you guys have had it up to here with me, but... Was this too obvious and/or mushy? Or, I don't know...something? I felt I needed to get the ball rolling with the romance. Anyway, I liked it, and I hope you do too. Thanks for reading! 


	9. Chapter 8

Hello again! Thanks for the reviews. Sorry if this is a Mary-Sue, I had hoped that it wouldn't turn out that way. I just figured hey, she's a scribe, I'm sort of a scribe, maybe that should be my username: LadyScribe! Honestly, it was never my intention to have a self-insertion occupation thing. Again, I apologize if that irritates and/or offends anyone.  
  
Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own a single darn thing, though I am convinced that I have Fatty Bolger imprisoned in my closet for the time being. (I really do hope it is the real Fatty. It would be just my luck to capture some random hobbit or perhaps a neighborhood child.) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Legolas sat quietly in his chamber, mulling over the events of the previous day. Legolas had known Elráwien for a long time, but he had never really known her. A nod in her direction or a quick smile had been their only contact before...this, whatever it was.  
  
I am fond of Elráwien. Legolas thought, sighing. But do I love her? Perhaps I mistake friendship and sympathy for love. Legolas frowned suddenly, and his brows furrowed. He did believe that he felt something special towards this maiden. Elves in their eternal lives had but one mate; could it be he had found his? Legolas didn't know. He had loved before, but never had he felt so unsure of his emotions as he did now. Legolas refused to admit it to himself, but he was hesitant to confess his feelings about Elráwien out of fear. What if she rejected him? Would he die of sorrow, like so many others had?  
  
Coming to a decision, Legolas stood abruptly. How foolish I have been to question what my heart tells me! Legolas chided himself. He did care for Elráwien on some level; there was no mistaking it. Perhaps their relationship would grow into love over time, and perhaps it would not. There is no need to rush these delicate affairs. I cannot possibly love someone I have only just begun to explore. Legolas thought to himself firmly, ignoring the small voice in the back of his mind that sang "love, love, love" over and over again.  
  
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Legolas squinted up at the sun, which had just begun its daily cycle of rising into the sky. Many hours were left before the glowing orb would disappear into the west and surrender the skies to its pale sister.  
  
Legolas glanced around him, looking for Elráwien. Hénduil the sword- smith had told him she would be here, wandering among the trees. Where was she? Finally, he spotted her. Elráwien's back was turned to him; she lingered by the very tree they had occupied the other day. She appeared to be looking for something, and tilted her head up to search the branches above her. Legolas simply watched her for a moment, the corners of his mouth turning up. Suddenly he shook his head, and laughed to himself. He could deny them all he wished to, but just looking upon this maiden released a flood of emotions: amusement, contentment, wonder...and love.  
  
Elráwien had heard his soft laughter and quickly whirled around to face the Elf standing a several paces away. She froze just as quickly, and looked for a moment very much like a deer caught in the firing range of an armed hunter. Legolas felt fear suddenly grip his heart like an icy hand. Why did she stand there looking at him with her eyes wide, balancing on her feet as if she was ready to bolt?  
  
Legolas, never averting his gaze from hers, slowly extended his hand, palm up, towards her. Her gaze flickered from his eyes to his outstretched hand, then back to his eyes.  
  
In what seemed to be a blur of movement, Elráwien closed the space between Legolas and herself and flung herself into his arms. Elráwien wrapped her arms around Legolas' neck and pressed her face against his chest, the top of her head just brushing against his chin. Legolas wrapped an arm around her waist and stroked her hair. He closed his eyes for a moment and savored how warm and soft she felt. After a few moments, Elráwien loosened her grip on Legolas and stepped enough so she could look at his face.  
  
"I was looking for you. I wasn't quite sure..." Elráwien said tentatively, lifting her eyes to the sky, as if what she wished to say was written in the clouds. Clearing her throat, she tried again.  
  
"I didn't quite know what to think of what...what happened yesterday," Elráwien finished, the statement coming out more like a question than anything else. She looked at him with pleading eyes, begging him to say something. Legolas noted that there was a considerable amount of fear in them as well, though Elráwien tried to conceal it.  
  
"Why did you not know what to think, my love?" Legolas said, smiling gently.  
  
"Well, I suppose I-" Elráwien stopped abruptly, his words sinking in. She glanced at him, not quite sure if she had heard what she hoped she had. Legolas' smile broadened, and Elráwien's eyes widened.  
  
"Could-could you say that again-that last part, again?" She asked disbelievingly, her voice barely above a whisper.  
  
"My love," Legolas said again, and Elráwien's eyes filled with tears. In one fluid motion, they were in each other's arms again. Legolas kissed Elráwien everywhere he could reach: her lips, forehead, and her eyelids. Elráwien cried in her profound joy, and kissed Legolas back with equal intensity. Legolas held her to himself in a fierce embrace, his face buried in her hair as he repeated "my love, my beloved." Neither had known happiness of this kind before, and it overwhelmed them.  
  
That night they slept in each other's arms in a chaste but loving embrace.  
  
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I know that this was kind of short, but I enjoyed it anyway, and hope you did too. In case you were wondering, Legolas and Elráwien did not sleep together. I hope I didn't write that in a confusing manner... I have to go now; my muse has just finished proofreading and is out cold. I really should revive her. Until nest time! Thanks! 


	10. Chapter 9

Hi again. I've been having a bit of trouble with this chapter; I'm not really sure where to head from here. Do I end it happily, or do I make Elráwien and Legolas suffer a bit more? (Wow, that sounds a lot more sadistic then I meant it to...) Anyway, I guess I'll just play it by ear for now, as unprofessional as that sounds. Ah, well. I'm really glad that you guys were okay with the POV changes in recent chapters. I think I'm going to stick with them to make things a bit more interesting.  
  
Thanks for the reviews!  
  
Disclaimer: Does it look like I own anything?  
  
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Galáril paced nervously in his chambers, muttering ominously to himself. His eyes flashed dangerously, and every so often he would clench his fists in agitation.  
  
"This will not do," he said, shaking his head. Galáril was not dim- witted. He had seen that librarian, the conniving wench, cozy up to the prince. His lip curled in disgust. Thought she'd win the King's favor by batting her eyelashes at his sole heir, did she? It was revolting. Apparently, Elráwien had told the prince her dark and tortured past, hoping to win him over.  
  
"Of course her past is dark!" Galáril said savagely, pounding his fist on his wall. "What Elf's isn't?" He did not know a single Elf who had not suffered grievous losses. It was just like Elráwien to do this. Since her father had died, she wanted to "honor his memory" by serving Thranduil, and "do what she was born to" as well. Ha! Galáril new that she was lying. He knew she simply wanted to ruin everything he had ever worked for. Elráwien, he had decided, was like a spider, spinning webs of lies and deceit; even the most famed warrior in the kingdom was tangled in her web.  
"But I," Galáril said, "will not be victimized." He smiled triumphantly, and began to plan.  
  
"Not a moment to soon," he said, "I wonder who she preys upon as I speak."  
  
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"Foul thing!" I cried, shattering the silence of the library. I scowled at the overturned vial of ink, which was rapidly spreading. I quickly mopped up the mess, which thankfully had not stained any of the parchment surrounding it. It had, however, stained my fingers. Sighing, I began to scrub at my fingers, but my efforts were fruitless.  
  
"Your grace astounds me, my lady," Legolas said, grinning at me. He was perched atop one of the writing tables, watching me frantically wipe my hands.  
  
"Prey tell, my lord, what have you done with the prince they call Legolas? For I know he would never mock a maiden in distress," I said, smiling back.  
  
"My apologies," he replied, putting down a letter he was reading and gracefully sliding off of the desk, "But I assumed a maiden in distress would, in fact, be in distress."  
  
"Oh, do be quiet," I said, lightly slapping at his hands, which had encircled my waist.  
  
"Do not speak, fair maiden! Do not cause yourself further injury! I shall escort you to safety, where you may heal from these severe stains." If one fluid motion, Legolas swooped me up into his arms, acting as if he were carrying me to safety.  
  
"Put me down this instant, you rogue," I said, laughing at his dramatic antics.  
  
"Rogue? Me? Why I assure you my lady, I have honorable intentions," Legolas said, winking at me. Finally he gently set me on my feet again, laughing.  
  
"Very amusing," I said, "but the ink will not come off so easily."  
  
"Well," Legolas said, "I cannot be in love with a maiden with ink on her hands, can I? I suppose I shall have to find another..." He trailed off, looking thoughtful.  
  
"Well, I never," I replied, placing my hands on my hips in mock fury. Legolas took my hands in my own and studied them carefully.  
  
"Covered in ink and calloused from writing," he said, his eyes twinkling, "these are the hands of a scribe."  
  
"Only one tiny callous," I protested half-heartedly, studying the third finger from my thumb. A callous had formed on it as a result of years and years of writing. When I was younger, I had hated it and would look mournfully at the flawless hands of the other maidens. After a time I had accepted it; having flaws makes you different.  
  
"The beautiful hands of a scribe," Legolas said, laughing at my protest. "You are perfect the way you are," he added, kissing me gently.  
  
"Don't think you can get out of it so easily," I smiled, returning to my writing table to continue working. Legolas shook his head, muttering something about fickle women, and returned to his letter. I noticed that as he read, a smile broke out on his face, and occasionally he would laugh.  
  
"What is that you are reading?" I inquired, curious.  
  
Legolas looked up from the parchment he held in his hand. "A letter from my dear friend Gimli, Lord of the Glittering Caves."  
  
"Gimli, Glóin's son?" I asked, and Legolas nodded in reply. I had never met the Dwarf, but knew he was an Elf-friend. "How fares the colony of the White Mountains?"  
  
"They are well," Legolas said, smiling, "The Dwarves of Aglarond have done many great deeds for the Rohirrim and Gondor's men."  
  
I nodded as he returned to the letter from his dear friend. I smiled to myself; it warmed my heart to see the one I held so dear so happy. My time in the shadows is over, I thought to myself, and much joy is to come.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ What did you think? I added that last part about Gimli because all of a sudden I thought: Hey, what about Gimli? I didn't want to make him and Elráwien best buddies or anything, and thought it would disrupt the flow of the story if I included him in every chapter. So there it is, a little nod in his direction. Poor Gimli! Just a little note: In case you were wondering, Galáril isn't insane. He's just...driven. Very much so, in fact. So that's all for now! I had better go, Fatty is trying to escape again... 


	11. Chapter 10

Hi. I guess your wondering what happened to me, right? Well, I'll tell you! GROUNDED! I was grounded for two months, but luckily the sentence was reduced before I went mad. I had no one to annoy but myself for what, three and a half weeks? Now that my groove's been thrown off and my writing is rusty, here is the next chapter! Yay!  
  
NadaZimri- Angst is the popular vote! Just remember, if the story turns out terrible: I had nothing to do with it, I was delirious at the time, and the devil made me do it.  
  
IvannethFuin- I didn't even know I had a style! I'm glad you like it, whatever it is.  
  
Farflung: Fabulous! I remember Snidely Whiplash. Galáril would be furious if he knew his bad-guy image was reduced to mustache twirling. Hmm. Well, my respect for him just dropped a notch or two! Just kidding. You're right about the first day of spring theory. I find myself smiling at small children and skipping. Strange and odd occurrences.....  
  
Cherryfaerie: How often do I update? A lot less often then I am proud to admit. The part with Anáwiel wasn't a dream; Elrawien was admitting the past (or at least parts of it) to Legolas. As for Galáril, well, I hope this clears stuff up.  
  
Arien Avathar- Galáril? Insane? Nah. As for the "driven" thing, I'd say burning, intense hatred. Plus the fact it was fun to write him over the top. (  
  
Glynnis: They all originally were in italics, or at least they are on my computer. Do you know how to transfer that onto FF.net?  
  
Marpessa: Ah, well, I tried. I just thought it was a cool name. C'est la vie! By the way, is that your real name, or just Apollo's Marpessa? Either way, its great!  
  
LalaithoftheBruinen: Hugs and bunnies for me? You shouldn't have. That's a clever pseudonym, by the way.  
  
Okay, on with the show!  
  
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The child sat on a marble floor of the purest white, contentedly amusing herself with a doll. She was humming to herself, a long forgotten melody that echoed hauntingly. The doll in her hands was lovely; her small dress was finely made and her beautiful face carefully painted. The young Elf lovingly smoothed its hair and tied a ribbon that had come loose on its bodice.  
  
Someone else entered the room, and the child leapt up to greet them, her doll forgotten on the floor. She threw her arms around the visitor's legs, for that was as far up as she could reach, and buried her face in the folds of their dress. The older Elf stooped and hugged the younger. Suddenly, the child broke free and stood in front of the visitor, smiling. Elráwien smiled back, and Anáwiel straightened as if she were about to speak. She held a hand up in front of her, gesturing for silence although no sounds had been heard. Then she opened her mouth and began speak.  
  
Elráwien, in her dream could hear nothing of what she said, just the melody that still reverberated around the room. Anáwiel gestured gracefully, and showed Elráwien her hand, which was carefully closed over something precious she held. Anáwiel's lips ceased their movement, and her eyes locked with her sister's. Blue eyes met gray, and she held out her hand and opened it.  
She held in her hand the bud of an Eglantine flower, a rose, wild and fragrant. Slowly its petals began to unfold and it bloomed. Its petals were a rare white, unmarred and beautiful. Anáwiel glanced down at it solemnly; when her eyes returned to her sister's Elráwien felt herself grow cold. The colors around her faded and blurred, and all that she could see was Anáwiel and the blossom. With a feeling of dread, she tore her eyes away and let them settle on the rose. Suddenly, it began to wilt, the edges of its petals curling in and turning brown. Anáwiel turned and pointed to her doll, which still laid on the floor, forgotten. Elráwien followed her gaze, the feeling of dread growing within her. What she saw was not the doll, nor the pure marble of chamber. She saw Anáwiel on the forest floor, her eyes wide and staring, her golden hair soaked with blood. The Anáwiel that held the withered blossom turned her back on the sight and faced her sister. Her hair dripped with blood; in ran down her face and stained her gown. Her small, bloodied hand threw the flower at Elráwien's feet. The music she had heard was gone. All that could be heard as the Eglantine landed were two tormenting words that made Elráwien fall to her knees and weep:  
  
"My savior."  
  
Elráwien woke with a start.  
  
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Legolas stood firmly, his hands clasped behind his back. He watched his visitor calmly, and listened as he spoke.  
  
"My apologies, Prince Legolas," said the dark haired Elf, bowing deeply, "The hour is late and the skies dark, yet I hope you will forgive me for this intrusion."  
  
Legolas nodded, "Continue, Galáril."  
Galáril straightened, a strange smile forming on his lips, "I fear the news I bring is not pleasant."  
  
Legolas' eyes flashed. "Tell me."  
  
Galáril nearly shouted with glee. Finally, it was his time. After years of suspicion and assumptions, he finally had put all the pieces together, and he had proof.  
  
"I bring news of your love, Elráwien."  
  
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Hehe. I was going to write more, but then I decided to make a different chapter with those ideas. Sorry for the pathetic length, but hey, give me some time to get back on my feet. Tell me what you think! 


	12. Chapter 11

Hey! Sorry this took so long-my computer had a virus. But a friend of mine came along and fixed it! Yay! Thank God for teenage computer geniuses, huh?  
  
Anyway, this chapter has some major drama in it. While I wrote it, I listened to a combination of Papa Roach (Last Resort), Creed (One Last Breath), and Dido (Here With Me). Fun results! I really wanted it to be a good chapter, because it is a turning point in the story. So, here goes.  
  
Disclaimer: You know the drill. I own nothing, nothing at all. I'm a teenager, for Pete's sake. Do I look like I'm going to claim all of this as my own?  


* * *

With shaking hands, I poured water from a pitcher into a small porcelain washing basin. I cupped the cold water in my hands and splashed my face. The water cooled my flushed cheeks and cleared my thoughts. I dried my face with a linen cloth and took steadying breaths.  
  
"That is all in the past," I told myself, somewhat defiantly, "and what has been done cannot be undone."  
  
Hearing myself speak aloud into the darkness of my chambers was somehow comforting. I folded the linen and placed it beside the pitcher. Despite what I had told myself, I knew that sleep would not claim me again. Quietly I rummaged through a drawer and produced a tall, slender candle. A few passages from the books of lore that I carefully stowed in my room would calm me. As I placed the candle in a small lantern on the wall beside my bed, I heard a quiet rapping at my door. I wrinkled my brow, wondering who would be calling at this hour. In response to my hesitation, the rapping came again, this time more urgent. With a sigh, I went to the door and carefully pulled it open. Waiting outside was one of the Royal Guard. Before I could ask him why he had come, he spoke.  
  
"Are you the Lady Elráwien, scribe who serves the King Thranduil?" He asked formally. Still a bit stunned, I could only nod.  
  
"The Prince Legolas, heir to the throne, demands your presence," he continued.  
  
"He wishes to see me now?" I asked, confused. The guard nodded.  
  
"This matter is most urgent," he said.  
  
"If-if I could just have a moment, please..." I stammered, "I must make myself presentable." I closed the door quickly. What could Legolas possibly want? Had something happened? My mind raced as I hastily pulled a dress over my head. Suddenly, I stopped as a thought crossed my mind. What...what if? No, that couldn't be it. But maybe...  
  
Did Legolas want to see me for a special reason? The guard had said it was urgent. I smiled, scoffing at my own foolishness. It was not likely that Legolas wanted to see me in the middle of the night to profess his eternal love for me and sweep me off my feet. I laughed softly at my childish, romantic thoughts. It was more likely he was in search of an elusive tome, or some unimportant matter like that. Still, I reasoned with myself as I ran my fingers through my hair, it would not hurt to look decent.  
  
When I stepped outside of my chamber and closed the door with a soft click, the guard motioned for me to follow him. He led me down stairs and through halls, into the tunnels that delved the deepest into the mountainside. These were where the councils were held; more importantly, it was where the royal family dwelled. I wished to speak to the Elf I followed, to ask him if he knew what I was needed for, but decided against it. His stoic façade and purposeful walk were intimidating, and he had said naught to me since we were at my rooms. As we walked, I studied my surroundings. Rich tapestries adorned the walls to my left; to my right was a portrait of Oropher, grim and regal.  
  
When I began to wonder how much farther we were to walk, my companion stopped abruptly at a pair of doors. They were beautifully carved with a pattern of leaves, and elegantly painted with a gold leaf. I glanced uneasily at them, unsure of what to do. The guard inclined his head towards the door, and I cautiously opened it, the ornate handle cold in my grasp. I stepped inside, and the guard closed it behind me. I heard him walk back the way we had come, his footsteps growing fainter and fainter. I glanced around the room. It was wonderfully decorated as well; a chandelier with crystal drops held dozens of candles that shed a golden glow, and carpets made of fine materials graced the floor. The room was neat but not unlived in; a desk in a far corner was littered with papers, ink, and quills, and a fire crackled merrily in the hearth.  
  
Despite this finery, what caught and held my gaze was a glass cabinet. It was fairly large, but its size was not what captivated me. Inside was a collection of weapons, each more beautiful and carefully made then the next. They had seen years of service in battle, yet they looked pristine and decorative. If I had looked more carefully, I would have noticed that the cabinet was slightly open, and there was a bare spot where a weapon had been.  
  
"Elráwien," I heard Legolas say lazily, "you have finally arrived."  
  
Startled, I whirled about, looking for the owner of the voice, and said, "I have."  
  
A hand grasped my shoulder, and I turned to see the prince. I nearly gasped when I laid eyes upon him, such was my shock. His eyes were blazing, and he had an odd smile on his face. His clothes were slightly rumpled, and his usually carefully braided hair was loose about his face. In his hand was a long white knife. Before I could form a thought, I heard another speak.  
  
"Indeed, this will be interesting." It was then I saw Galáril, sitting in a chair facing the fire. He rose, and his voice sounded almost gleeful when he echoed, "Very interesting."  
  
"Galáril," I said with as much composure as I could, "why are you here?"  
  
"I am here, my lady," he said, bowing to me mockingly, "because I was speaking with the Prince Legolas." Galáril began to say more, but he fell silent when Legolas looked at him, his triumphant smile disappearing.  
  
"Leave," Legolas said, his voice hard.  
  
"What?" Galáril asked, dumbfounded. "But, my Lord, I need to be present...it is only right-"  
  
But he got no further. "Leave!" Legolas shouted in anger. Galáril muttered something unintelligible about stolen glory and began to leave. As he passed us, he paused and locked eyes with me. His face twisted into a loathsome combination of hatred and triumph. Then he silently swept out of the room, leaving Legolas and I alone.  
  
When Legolas refocused his gaze on me, my stomach felt as if held a block of ice. I began to take a step back, but Legolas gripped both of my arms and held me in place. The force he held me with frightened me, and the weapon he held in his hand brushed against my arm perilously.  
  
"Do not move," Legolas said in a dangerously soft voice. I stood rooted to the spot, afraid and confused.  
  
"Legolas, I don't-" I said shakily as he began to circle me.  
  
"Silence," he said. My hands began to shake, and my mouth became dry. What was going on? Why was he looking at me like that?  
  
"Do you remember when our kingdom sought help from Rivendell? The Third Age, before even the Evenstar of the Elves graced our lands?" Legolas asked, studying the blade he held. Without waiting for me to reply, he continued. "Our kingdom was in danger of the growing shadows in Middle- earth. Loyalty to his land caused my father to desperately try to protect it. He carefully selected the group of Elves that traveled. They were warriors, strategists, and smiths; they would have been of the greatest use to Elrond if he chose to fight our enemies. But there were others that my father sent. Your father. Your mother. Your sister. You," He laughed, but it was a strange laugh. At this point my blood had run cold. My heart was beating so loudly I was sure Legolas could hear it.  
  
"Of course, my father sent documents to Elrond. I remember one in particular; it told of an attack we had been planning on our own, to test the strength of the enemy, to see what we were against, if you will. There was one person, and one person alone that was entrusted with these. Your father. Your father was the one Elf my father trusted above all else."  
  
"Please," I managed, "please, don't..." I begged, but my pleas fell on deaf ears.  
  
"Your father was to carry the documents. But he did not carry them. He gave them to someone else," Legolas began to walk towards me, and when I stepped back he did not stop me. "Who, I wonder, did he give them to?" At this point, I had been backed up against the wall; I had nowhere to retreat to. "Who?" Legolas demanded, his voice growing louder. His blade glittered dangerously.  
  
I swallowed hard and whispered, "He gave them to me."  
  
"Yes," Legolas said, his eyes flashing, "He gave them to you. With complete trust, he gave them to you. You begged him for that honor. He did not wish to give them to you, but you swayed him. A few days later, you were attacked. Anáwiel ran off, but she was not immediately killed, like you had said. No, not immediately. She was in grave danger, and instead of fighting, you betrayed your home. You gave the plans of attack to the Orcs. Your father's love for you clouded his judgment, just as it clouded mine," Legolas, in one fluid motion, had the blade at my throat. I screamed and tried to wrest the weapon away from him, but he was much too strong.  
  
"Do you have any idea what you did? The enemy knew of our plans, and was prepared. It was massacre! A blow to our already dwindling numbers! My father struggled to keep our people safe; he had no Ring of Power, no sanctuary of fabled beauty. The Elves of this realm trusted him; he believed that he had failed them. I wonder, if your father had known what his daughter was, would he have entrusted her with so sacred a duty?" Legolas struggled to control himself, and the blade pressed into my neck.  
  
"I had no choice!" I cried. I felt sick. This was not the Elf I loved. I had unleashed a violent side of him I had never seen before. He was being driven mad because of me. Oh Eru, what I done to him?  
  
"You had a choice! You chose to betray us all, to cause the deaths of my comrades, my family, and my people! You nearly destroyed us. I helped bury them, all of them; there were over three hundred corpses. You could have prevented it. And you said not a word, breathed not a whisper of warning to anyone. Only now has the truth been uncovered. By now the blade had drawn blood, and tears fell freely down my face.  
  
"If you are going to kill me," I said through my tears, "please, do it now."  
  
"Kill you?" Legolas laughed, "No, no, my Lady Elráwien. That is to kind a fate." He threw the knife down, and turned his back on me. It was only after I collapsed on the floor I realized that he had been holding me upright. I bowed my head, my hair forming a curtain around me. I wiped the blood off of my neck and wept.  
  
"If Galáril had not untangled your webs of lies, would I have lived all my long years wondering? He had always suspected you, he told me, but he had never been able to prove it. We all believed the Orcs had stolen the plans from you after you were injured. Now because of him I know the truth."  
  
Galáril had told him everything. He knew what I had done, I realized, because he had been there, that very day of Anáwiel's death. I should have realized what had happened as soon as I had seen him here with Legolas. I remember him leading a girl on a horse, blending into the crowd as he always had. His hood always drawn, except around her. She had been a warrior, killed in the battle I had practically won for the Orcs. Galáril had survived it; before he was a scribe he was a warrior. He must have been sickened with guilt every time he lifted a weapon; he had survived, and his love had not. He spent his life searching for the truth, and now he had found it. I had never realized, I thought bitterly, that he had lost someone he loved. And now I knew how he felt.  
  
"I have never been betrayed by one I had loved before," Legolas crouched next to me, and lifted my chin so his eyes bore into mine. Suddenly, he looked away in disgust. "Never."  
  
"Legolas," I let out an anguished sob. I could not stand it. He had loved me, looked at me in a way no other had. I needed him. In a moment of sheer panic, I did the only thing that I could possibly think of: I kissed him. Desperately I clung to him, putting all that I was into the kiss. Legolas' hands tangled in my hair and pulled me closer, reciprocating in equal desperation. Suddenly, he pushed me away forcefully.  
  
"No! I cannot. I can no longer look upon you. You are stained with the blood of the dead." He said, cradling his head in his hands. "How can I love you now?"

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I wrote this chapter kind of from experience. Not on this grand of a scale, obviously, but based on that. When I found out what the person had done, I lost the ability to think rationally, and I felt an intense surge of hatred directed towards that person. Not pretty at all. Tell me what you think. Thanks. 


	13. Chapter 12

Bonjour mes enfants! Comment allez-vous?  
  
I must have written this chapter about twenty, no, more like thirty times over. Type, reread, smack head against desk, delete, start again. Repeat as necessary. Yuck. Thank God for Howard Shore, or else I would have destroyed my computer in sheer frustration. I am (still) suffering from severe writers block. ( Hrum, Hoom!  
  
Irethwen-ElfRanger- Thank you so much! That was so sweet of you to say.  
  
Farflung- Sigh Hopefully this will refresh your memory.  
  
Tinkoo- Mon belle amie française! Merci beaucoup!  
  
Amaya-Totori- Cruel? This story? Nah. (  
  
Glynnis- Do you have any work on FF.net? I'd like to read it. Thanks for the compliment!  
  
NadaZimri- Thanks a million. You're the best!  
  
SweetKrok- What a cute pseudonym! Suspense is good.  
  
Thanks for all of the beautiful reviews! It was nice to know you guys enjoyed the last chapter. Hopefully, you'll like this one, too!

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I watched Legolas, uncertain of what to do. Timidly, I reached out to place my hand upon his arm. As soon as my fingers brushed against him, he bolted upright. He held his hands up, as if to ward me off, and stumbled backwards; it was the first ungraceful move I had ever seen him make. Somehow, this was more frightening than a knife pressed against my throat.  
  
"No," Legolas shook his head, "do not...do not touch me."  
  
My stomach clenched and I felt as if my very breath had been stolen from my lungs. A pain ripped through my heart; it was so painful I was sure I would die that very moment.  
  
"Why do you back away from me?" I panicked, struggling to my feet.  
  
"I do not know you," Legolas said wearily, "you have deceived me."  
  
"I was afraid," my voice had a desperate edge to it. "But now you know the truth. You-"  
  
"Yes," Legolas cut me off sharply. "I do know the truth. I know now who you are. You are not the one I loved any longer."  
  
"I am still-" I began.  
  
"You are not!" Legolas shouted. He turned away from me, and I stared numbly at his back. All was silent, save for his ragged breathing. "No one will know of this. Galáril has been sworn to silence. You no longer serve the king. You may stay in Greenwood, but I do not wish to see you again," Legolas turned to face me again; his eyes were cold and hard. "Leave."

* * *

I stared up at the sky, feeling the hard floor of my talan against my back. The stars shone softly back at me, and a breeze stirred through the trees. The branches of the beech I inhabited creaked gently as they bowed to the winds. I rolled onto my stomach and climbed to my feet, restless. Even the comforting light of Eärendil did not soothe my troubled thoughts. Not bothering to unroll the rope ladder, I leapt down of the edge of the platform instead. I landed softly on my feet and began to walk.  
  
I had left my home in the king's halls behind; I could no longer bear seeing the one I loved look through me as I passed, as if I were nothing. I had suffered silently, but the pain I felt had not escaped Hénduil. Dear, dear Hénduil, I thought. I had lost my very will to live, and had wanted to yield to my heart's pleas for death. He had allowed me use of his father's talan, long vacant. Since then, he constantly visited and worried over me, which I was grateful for. His betrothed, Lathiel, often stayed with me when Hénduil could not; her cheery, lovely face never failed to place a smile upon mine.  
  
But secretly, I still pined for Legolas. I nearly cried aloud when Hénduil and Lathiel laughed together, their arms encircling one another. Neither of them knew how my heart wrenched when they smiled lovingly at each other or walked hand in hand. I had not the heart to separate them because of my pain.  
  
I reached the river that flowed through the wood and stopped. I merely sat at its edge and watched it trip and stumble over itself, murmuring with quiet laughter. Tears blurred my vision until the world was a haze. Soon I could not stop their flow down my cheeks, and my body shook with silent sobs. I wept until the ache inside of me finally dulled. I stood upright, wiping my reddened eyes and pushing my hair out of my face.  
  
Suddenly, I froze. I could sense someone or something behind me. I was unarmed, for the woods were safe, yet my heart still pounded in terror. Steeling myself, I whirled about quickly. My heart nearly stopped when I saw who was in front of me.  
  
"What are you doing here?" I asked, unable to keep the tremor out of my voice.  
  
"I believe it is I who should be asking you," Galáril retorted. He looked as if he were a shadow; his black cloak concealed all but his face. "You should be careful. Your weeping could attract unwanted prey."  
  
"What is it that you want from me?" I asked tentatively. My fists clenched and unclenched convulsively at my sides.  
  
"Do not toy with me," Galáril said in a dangerously low voice. His tone changed to an arrogant one, and he continued. "It amazes me that the prince allows the likes of you to still wander the forests."  
  
"The likes of me?" I asked nervously, not liking his tone.  
  
"Indeed. I would have thought him to have more sense. But you see, when it comes to his kind, you, more specifically, the prince had a flaw. Do you know what that flaw is?" Galáril asked, as if speaking to a child.  
  
My nails bit into the skin of my hands. "He has mercy."  
  
"Yes, quite unfortunate, really. His mercy clouded his judgment. If I were to judge you, however, I would not be so forgiving." Galáril's lips curved into a sickening smile.  
  
Blood now pooled in my hands; I looked at him with fear.  
  
"The punishment would have to fit the crime, would it not? Let us see what you are guilty of, shall we?" he asked conversationally. He did not wait for me to reply, and went on. "You betrayed your family, your people, and your king; you let your poor, dear sister die, and you lied to us all for centuries. Poor Legolas, he was so distraught when I told him the truth..."  
  
"Do not speak of me of Legolas," I said with false audacity. "You do not know of what you speak."  
  
"I do not? Oh, I believe I do. Did you not give the Orcs our plans of attack? You cannot deny it! I saw your father give them to you. I never trusted you! I always suspected you. That day in the library only confirmed my suspicions. Did you not realize that I was testing you?" He was gloating now, enjoying my discomfort. His eyes held a familiar gleam, one filled with wild, sickening triumph.  
  
"You-you did not know?" I gasped.  
  
"No, I did not. I saw you chasing after the child, and then found your broken and bleeding body. I managed to kill the Orc that gave you this," he drew his finger slowly across his neck, "but its other companions escaped. Had I known then what I know now, I would have gladly watched you die with a song in my heart."  
  
"You were testing me," I said, still unable to believe what a fool I had been.  
  
"Yes, I was," Galáril said impatiently. He smiled again. "You practically did everything for me. You were the catalyst, it seems. If you had not said a word, perhaps none of this would have happened."  
  
I felt dizzy and faint as I processed what he said. A metallic taste filled my mouth, and a thousand thoughts screamed in my head.  
  
"You, you are doing this for her," I said slowly.  
  
"What?" Galáril's voice wavered for a moment.  
  
"You are doing this for her," I said again, my voice stronger.  
  
"Stop! Do not speak of her!" Galáril screamed, his eyes flashing madly.  
  
"I never could have imagined your pain," I said, "but now I feel it for myself. Isn't that what you wanted? To pay for her death?"  
  
"No!" Galáril said viciously, his hands shaking. "I wanted you dead, after you suffered. For an eternity, if not more, I would wait before I killed you myself. But I will not wait any longer."  
  
My eyes widened as I realized what he was saying. "The guard! The wood is filled with them!" I said quickly, stalling for time. Why were they not already helping me?  
  
"They are not here," Galáril laughed softly. "Spiders deep in the wood. At least, that is what I told them. Now, Elráwien, you really are alone."  
  
I turned to run, but Galáril was faster. He wrenched my back by my arm, and threw me to the ground. His fist connected with my jaw, and I lay stunned for a second at the force of his impact. He reached deep into his cloak and drew out a shining dagger. He aimed for my throat, but I twisted to the side and it sank uselessly into the soil. Using all my strength, I hit the side of his face. Galáril's head snapped to the side, and I used his distraction to my advantage. I sprang to my feet to try to escape again, but Galáril seized my ankle and pulled me down again.  
  
"No!" I screamed, but he paid no heed.  
  
His foot connected sharply with my stomach, knocking the breath out of me. Before I could respond, his hands wrapped around my throat. I yanked at his hands, trying to pry them off, but my efforts were in vain. I rained my fists upon him, kicked, and struggled, but to no avail.  
  
"I had meant to kill you slowly, but this will have to do," Galáril grunted, his hands tightening even more.  
  
My vision swam, and black spots exploded in my eyes. With a final effort, my eyes locked with his. His eyes were a gruesome display of hate, pleasure, and victory. Suddenly, they widened in shock. Slowly he looked down and saw a blood stained blade protruding from his heart. His eyes returned to mine, filled with confusion and anger. Then they went blank. His limp form collapsed onto me, and I gasped for air. Someone pulled me into an upright position and spoke to me urgently. I heard none of it, but my hazy eyes focused for an instant on my rescuer. Then I slipped into darkness, collapsing in Legolas' arms.

* * *

Loved it? Hated it? Want to skewer me with a twenty-foot barbeque fork? Let me know! Thanks for reading! 


	14. Chapter 13

Hi everyone. I'm just at the point where I absolutely hate school now! Thank God it'll be over in a few days. Finals are the worst, aren't they? Especially math in my case, its my worst subject. Honestly though, am I ever going to use logarithms or coordinate geometry proofs in the real world? Harrumph.  
  
Anyway, I noticed on the last few chapters I haven't been putting a disclaimer. So I'll say it now, once and for all: none of this is mine, I swear!  
  
Lili- blinks Wow. Grins Only a true friend would be that truly honest! (Yes, I shamelessly take that line from Shrek.)  
  
Duo-wolf- That's okay, any feedback is appreciated!  
  
Glynnis- That's too bad. I've said it before, I'll say it again: I hate school!  
  
LalaithoftheBruinen- ( I can always count on you for hugs and bunnies! Thanks a lot.  
  
NadaZimri- Thanks. Just out of curiosity, how did you come up with that name?  
  
Fallenangel3490- Update soon? dies laughing Sorry, but just ask any of the other reviewers and they'll all tell you the same thing: I am horrible with updates! Thanks for the compliments, by the way!  
  
Cherryfaerie- Well, you'll just have to read on and find out, won't you? Thanks!  
  
Nilimade-Thanks!  
  
SweetKrok- Always good to hear! Thanks.  
  
Moralinde- Oh, the workings of my perpetually twisted (and confusing) mind. It often doesn't make sense, but bear with me. Read on, my dear!  
  
Dark elvish angel of shadow- Thanks!  
  
etheral-Dragon- Woo-hoo! I managed to do something right! Sorry for the wait!  
  
Farflung- Well, maybe a little mushy. Don't I always do the extreme mushy/angsty stuff? It is a romance after all... Librarians are cool! Giles is cool! Madame Pince is...well, on second thought, scratch that. But still. Thanks!  
  
Irethwen-ElfRanger- Hurrah! Joins happy dance-age and attracts quite a few stares Pink Floyd? Sure, I'll try!

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A dull pain throbbed in my head, and my eyes were clouded and bleary. A warm breeze fluttered through the trees, and not too far off I could hear a bird's song. Peaceful as it was, something, nagged at the back of my mind. I couldn't exactly remember, perhaps I would recall if only that aching stopped, it felt like a knife between my eyes...  
  
My eyes immediately snapped into focus, and I bolted upright. I immediately regretted doing so; the pain in my head increased alarmingly and my sore limbs screamed in pain. The events of the previous night flooded back; I shook my head and tried to sort it all out. The river, Galáril, the knife, I couldn't breathe...Legolas.  
  
"Ai, Elbereth!" I cried and dropped my head into my hands. I had wished it all to be a dream; yet another cruel, haunting dream. Tears streamed down my cheeks, but I wiped them away savagely. I was always so weak, so foolish...  
  
It had cost me everything I held dear: Anáwiel, my position, and Legolas. It had estranged me from Hénduil and Lathiel, as well. Like a fool I had desperately clung to hope, but it was all in vain. And I hated myself for it.  
  
"It hurts, does it not?" a voice said quietly. I gasped and snapped my head to my right; sitting on the ledge of my talan said Legolas, his back to me. I leapt to my feet and ignored the protest of my muscles.  
  
"I-I don't...it isn't as bad..." I said feebly, glancing at the looking glass beside my bed. There were angry bruises about my throat and a particularly bad one in the spot where Galáril had first hit me. I touched it gingerly, but immediately withdrew my hand, emitting a low hiss. I swallowed hard and shifted my weight from one foot to the other. "They will heal soon," I said, wanting to break the silence that hung over us like a shroud.  
  
"No." Legolas stood now, still not facing me, his hands clasped behind his back. "Those are not the wounds I speak of." He turned abruptly to face me. Instinctually I stepped back; noticing this, he smiled grimly. Steeling myself, I firmly planted my feet on the ground.  
  
"I do not understand," I said uneasily.  
  
"Here," Legolas gestured to his head, "and here," he placed his hand gently over his heart. Defensively, I placed my hand over my own and willed it to stop beating against my chest like a caged bird.  
  
"Yes," I said softly, "it does hurt." Legolas' eyes held mine, and as much as I wanted to, I could not tear them away.  
  
"To know what you have done, and not having the power to bend Time. Even the endless amounts the Elves possess may not be enough to heal old hurts. That knowledge is torture of bitterest kind." Legolas said evenly, his gaze never wavering.  
  
"It is," I replied, my voice not nearly as even. Legolas simply looked at me. "I know it is. Is this why you waited for me to awaken? To torment me, telling me I can make no amends? If it is, I must beg you to leave."  
  
Without a word, Legolas turned and began to leave. Before I could stop myself, I called after him.  
  
"Wait!" I bit my lip as he stopped and slowly turned. "Why-" I faltered, then pressed on. "Why did you save me?"  
  
His eyes hardened and he looked at me with an expression I could not decipher.  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
Fear bloomed in my heart, but was quickly replaced with something I did not expect-anger.  
  
"Why? Why did you stop Galáril from killing me? I thought you wished nothing more than for me to be dead! Is that not what you told me?" I stood so close to Legolas that our noses were a few mere inches apart. "Why did you not just let him kill me, and end my suffering? Do you want me to bring my own demise through my suffering and weariness, or by my own hand? Or perhaps," I said, trembling with anger, "perhaps you just wished to kill me yourself?"  
  
Legolas moved as though to hit me, and I threw up my hands, shielding my face. He did not hit me; he grasped me just below the shoulder in a bone- crushing grip.  
  
"Release me! Let me go!" I cried, struggling with all my might. His grip tightened even more in response, holding me quite still.  
  
"How can you ask me that?" Legolas demanded, his eyes filled with fire. I was to shocked to respond; this seemed to anger him further still. "I sat by your side as you slept through the night, wishing that I could kill you and be done with it. I wanted to tell you when you awoke that I wished I had never known you. That I meant it when I told you to leave my sight forever. I wanted to tell you that I detested you with the deepest loathing I possessed in my being, and that I could never forgive you. But then," he said, his voice shaking with emotion, "I saw you wake. I saw your face when you recalled what happened, I saw you break down and try to fight back your tears...and I knew, Elráwien, that I could never kill you. The thought of living without you was too painful to bear, because I love you, more than the stars, more than my own life. I would rather die a thousand deaths than harm you." His voice was thick with emotion, and he cupped my face in his hands. "I love you."

I couldn'r think, I couldn't move; I simply clung to Legolas and cried. I sank down to the floor, weeping with indescribable joy.

"I will never, never let you go again," he whispered, kissing the top of my head and stroking my hair. I cried even harder, knowing it was true. We were together again, and nothing could ever tear us apart.

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Oh, the mush! I love writing all of this dramatic, passionate lovey-dovey stuff. Sigh (Sorry farflung, I couldn't resist Lili, if you read up to this point, I bet you want to kill me too!) I didn't mean for it to come out this way, but somehow it did. This might be the last chapter, now that I think of it. I might go on a bit more, but if I do, maybe for only another chapter or so. Thanks for reading. Review, please?


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